It takes the Fixer a moment to realize what the young woman is saying. Once he does, however, he starts to mentally kick himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Oh.” Not one to backpedal, Falke will always own up to his mistakes, which he does with much wider eyes and a shake of his head before. “I thought you looked a bit old to be Ronin’s daughter, but then perhaps the portals do odd things - but no, I suppose that makes much more sense.”
A daughter of Safrin stood before him. It could only be Safrin, based on what he’s heard and the Dragon’s devotion to the lady of the stars.
“No, I imagine you are to be questioned too. But that isn’t what I’m here to guard against.” He really can’t imagine that Safrin’s daughter would have sympathies for the Ascended or any significant kind of mental illness, but they would need to check just to be sure. Not knowing what might be normal? That’s just something she’ll have to learn. Experience.
Like this encounter. It’s normal enough.
“Ah, well -” extending it with a terrible grip, Falke makes much too big of a gesture to stab the air. Anyone could have seen that coming a mile away. “There’s a stabbing way. And a beating way, I suppose. Though the thought of using it that way does make me feel a little like a crotchety old man. It's more of a last resort kind of thing.”
